


Safe Harbor

by ficforever



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Brakebills, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficforever/pseuds/ficforever
Summary: Quentin doesn't go to Brakebills, but he still gets tangled up with a monster - just the more ordinary kind. Margo and Eliot help out.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	Safe Harbor

**Author's Note:**

> It’s raining out and I miss Quentin Coldwater, so. Loosely inspired by the deli scene in that cinematic masterpiece, National Treasure: chewbacca.tumblr.com/post/189131080877/national-treasure-2004-dir-jon-turteltaub

He had come out of nowhere.

Quentin had been so careful. Julia had made him a go plan, and he had followed it to the letter because he still trusted her brain, even after months of barely seeing her and years of not trusting his own. He trusted her ability and willingness to get him out of this mess, and if the price was her silent judgment for getting himself into it - well, he’d pay it. It was a bargain, probably. Any deal that got him out alive was probably a bargain. 

_You’re so dramatic when you’re upset, baby. Let me go clean this up, and then I’ll come help you calm down._

Quentin hadn’t calmed down. He had run. And he would have sworn he hadn’t been followed to Julia’s meet-up point ( _it’s all fish bowls and signature cocktails, Q, that asshole wouldn’t be caught dead within ten blocks_ ). And maybe he hadn’t been followed, but he also still hadn’t calmed down, and then he’d caught a glimpse in the crowd of familiar shoulders in a dark wool coat and he’d just - panicked.

Panicked right over the pass-through door in a leap he could never have made without adrenaline, and now he was sprawled in the narrow strip between the bar and the shelves of gleaming bottles, probably freaking out a bartender. He squeezed his eyes closed and steadied his breathing. If he could just - stay like this, for a minute, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t cry. 

The first voice he heard was a woman’s. Not freaked out, just deeply unimpressed. “Nope,” she said, and Quentin winced. “You’re not making martinis, you don’t belong back here.”

A gentle cough, and then a man said, “Bambi…”

The woman heaved a sigh. “Fine, if you’re not making martinis or _inebriation art_ , like this asshole, you can’t be back here.” Another cough. “Seriously? he’s not cute enough for a health code violation, El."

"Sorry,” Quentin choked out, and finally opened his eyes.. The pair in front of him were disorientingly mismatched, especially from his worms-eye view: a tiny woman with a fierce glare and a toweringly tall man with an apron over…something formal, Quentin couldn’t tell, looking down at him with nothing more than mild bemusement. 

He took a deep breath that he was hoping didn’t sound too much like a sob, and sat up. “Sorry,” he said, again. “I have to hide. There’s a man, I think he’s - following me? Please.“

The woman tore her glare from him to scan the room, lips pursed. "Big guy, terrible beard, long black coat?”

Quentin felt himself get smaller, huddled against the crates beneath the bar. “Yeah. That’s him.”

“Stay as long as you want; Eliot can make you a drink.” She didn’t phrase it as a question, but touched the guy just briefly on the elbow as she spoke, and there was a whole conversation Quentin was too tired to guess at in the way their eyes met. After a moment, the guy nodded, blowing her a kiss. “I’ll handle this,” she added, and swept out of Quentin’s eyesight.

Wait, what? God, his head was heavy. He should - warn her. Warn both of them. But the bartender - Eliot, clearly - seemed unconcerned, just looking after her fondly for a moment before he turned back to Quentin, eyes crinkling in a smile. “That’s my girl, striking fear into hearts of douchebags everywhere. Her favorite hobby.”

“And she’s nicknamed…Bambi? For the Disney movie?”

“Well, it’s more from the sequel. ” He widened his eyes at Quentin, who could feel his brow furrowing. “Didn’t you see it? All the woodland creatures band together and get revenge?”

Jesus, was this banter? Did Quentin look like he could handle banter right now? But there was something calming about the way this total stranger was just casually fucking with him, leaning easily against the bar and, Quentin realized, shielding him from view. He tried to collect himself. “Oh, yeah, the Tarantino sequel, right?”

Eliot stifled a snort and nodded solemnly, his eyes bright. “A classic. Who knew Thumper could handle that AK15?”

“Bambi Get Your Gun, I think the title was.”

“Bambi Hunts the Hunters.”

Quentin cast around for another one, not wanting to let go of this dumb light moment. “Uh, Bambi II: Electric Bamboo?”

Eliot cocked his head. “…No,” he said firmly, and Quentin shook with a wheeze of laughter, trying to keep it quiet and ending up slouched even further down against the crates. 

He wasn’t calm, exactly, but he wasn’t panicked anymore.

“Thanks for this,” he said quietly. Eliot’s face softened. 

“You heard the lady.” He turned back to the bar, flipping a towel onto his shoulder and scanning the room. “Stay as long as you want.”


End file.
